


All Fired-Up

by ourcrashdownblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angsty Schmoop, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Comfort Sex, Dean Winchester Gets a Hug, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Winchester Whump, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Love, One Shot, PWP without Porn, Panic Attacks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrashdownblue/pseuds/ourcrashdownblue
Summary: Just a short hurt/comfort one-shot wherein Dean needs a hug and gets one.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	All Fired-Up

**Author's Note:**

> I do not reserve any rights. I hope you enjoy!

The night sky is dark and starless but still seems to shine through the house’s windows like the backlighting on a movie set. Dean’s eyes are hazy and he does his best to rub the sleep out of them. His mouth smacks around a yawn and the mundane sounds of the silent house fill his ears. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s taken off his shoes and jacket until he finds himself climbing the squeaking stairs. The family photos lining the walls and at the landing are bathed in a grey-blue light that makes Dean’s skin prickle. It should be a peaceful kind of darkness, but Dean only feels chilly. 

Wait...it _is_ chilly.

Did Cas not turn the furnace up for Dean before he went to bed? For a being of almost infinite power, Cas’s feet sure do get cold pretty damn easy. He can practically feel those icy toes tucking between his calves, seeking out heat. The hunter can already picture Cas all curled up under the smooshed comforter like a sleeping giant with a mountain on its back. Dean can think of one or two sexy ways to warm his angel up if Cas snuffles awake when he crawls in bed like he usually does. That sounds fan-freaking-tastic right about now. A little roll-in-the-hay to get all toasty before falling asleep with his arms wrapped around those wide shoulders.

Dean’s fingers brush over the penciled in lines along the doorway of his childhood bedroom as he rounds the corner at the top of the stairs and shuffles off to the master on the left. Since no lights were switched on downstairs, and the warm glow of the lamp isn’t pouring out from under the door crack, Cas must’ve called it a night already. Maybe he can convince Cas to go a round with him in the morning instead? Give the angel a real nice wake up call with a hand down his boxers..? So many possibilities.

Dean creaks the door open and a wall of freezing air hits him. A shiver jolts his body. Why the fuck was it so cold? Dean’s eyes dart around the room but even the smokey light from the window isn’t enough to make out any shapes in the darkness that enshrouds the bed. 

His eyes double-take. 

Well, that would do it.

Dean makes his way across the freezing hardwood floor and pulls the open window closed. The curtains whoosh up then flutter down to rest on the pane. Why had Cas opened the window? No wonder it was cold as the ninth circle of Hell in here. Sure, Kansas winters weren’t too rough but it was crazy to just leave your windows open at night. Maybe the angel had just wanted some fresh air and forgot to close it before he knocked off. Yeah, that sounded like Cas. Probably saw a pretty leaf perched on the overhang’s shingles and wanted to feel the wind take it away.

Dean huffs a silent laugh and lets his tired smile get soaked up in the darkness. He’d have to throw on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt before he could truly settle in for the night, but his nice warm bed is calling to him. Plus, there’s a know-it-all angel just begging to be cuddled under what is probably the Everest of blanket piles.

Dean reaches his hands blindly out in front of him as he leaves the window, meandering over in the direction of his side of the bed. When his fingertips reach the bedspread, he angles his body better and guides himself up to the head of the bed. He pats his freezing pillow and the cold, neatly made comforter. He flops onto his back and shivers at the chill the blankets send up his spine. He hums in contentment at the sudden relaxation throbbing in his sore feet. 

Dean keeps his eyes softly closed and rolls onto his hip towards the angel’s side of the bed. He reaches out his arm to grab a hold of the angel’s slight pudge...and his hand flops down to the empty bed. His eyes snap open and something sharp and full of dread fills his stomach. Where’s Cas? He pats along the angel’s place and is only met with emptiness. As his eyes adjust even better he can only see the smooth, linear outline of the made bed and complete absence of his angel.

_Drip._

A cool splat hit Dean’s cheek. He brushes at the wet spot on his cheek and his blood sloshes in his veins like ice. Every muscle in his body goes taut. He rolls back to look up at the ceiling where the drop had come from. 

He can’t breathe, all air bursting out of him like he’s taken a sledgehammer to the ribs. Tears start streaming down Dean’s face before he can even string words together. Castiel is looking back at Dean, ocean blue eyes now milky and blank as a dead fish’s. Another drop falls onto his cheeky from the dark crimson gash that splits Cas’s belly wide open.

Dean hears an agonized, guttral shriek pierce the air. He only realizes the noise has been ripped from his throat when his hand flies up to clap over his mouth. 

Cas. His Cas…

“ _Ca-asss!_ ” Dean screams through his sweaty hand.

His angel’s gray body seems to flicker, and for a moment Dean thinks that Cas is moving--that he’s alive. Flame bursts across the ceiling behind Cas and shatters the safety of the darkness. His love’s corpse is illuminated, brilliant and blinding--the only thing Dean can see. 

The room is searing now, being devoured by the fire’s orange tongues. Dean can’t bring himself to move from the bed. He can’t take his eyes off of the terrified, unnatural look frozen on his angel’s face. Seemingly endless tears track down the hunter’s cheeks and curl into his mouth as he screams Cas’s name.

It can’t end like this. Not after everything they’ve been through. Years wasted. Years--a decade that they could’ve been together but threw away. And Dean didn’t even get to say goodbye? 

Heat stings Dean’s skin as he remains on the bed, flames gnawing away at his home. He closes his eyes and tries to picture Cas. His dorky, weird, little guy. The angel who shuffles his feet when he’s nervous, who misses PB&Js and who babbles Enochian while squeezing Dean’s hand as he comes between their bellies. He tries and tries--but all he can see is pale grey skin and scared, unseeing eyes.

What was the last thing he said to him? When was the last time he told Cas he loved him? Fuck, it’d been too long ago, he knows. He just wants to kiss the angel. Just one last time so Cas knows Dean will never stop thinking of him, will always be half himself without the angel. The hunter squeezes his eyes tighter as the old wood beams of their home groan and screech. The crackling roar of the blaze deafens Dean, he can’t hear his crying anymore and he can’t call Cas’s voice to mind. What can’t he remember what Cas sounda like? Maybe...if the ceiling crumbles down and crushes him, or the pitch black smoke suffocates him...maybe he will get to see his angel again after all--

“ _Dean?_ ”

Dean’s eyes flew open but the world is dark and fuzzy. He’s on a bed still--but where are the flames? Gulps of air tear down his throat and maybe he actually is choking on the smoke--but he doesn’t taste smoke. Icy sweat coats his bear chest where his hand clutches over his thundering heart, the sheets beneath his other hand are tacky and cold, too. He knows someone is saying his name, someone is trying to hold onto him...but Cas is dead so who’s that...?

When a warm, solid hand grips the nape of his neck, Dean realizes that he really isn’t breathing. Oh God, maybe he did die in the fire. Maybe that’s why he hears Castiel saying his name. Are they both dead? He sputters and coughs and his heartbeat rattles down to his fingertips. 

Suddenly a half-naked Castiel is in his line of sight kneeling beside him, angling Dean’s face to look at him. The angel is saying something but it’s warbled and only snippets of words are being processed in his brain. It’s the terrified and hurt look in Cas’s face, though, that finally jolts Dean’s nerves back into functioning. His hands grab onto Cas with an iron grip. 

Cas is here. Cas alive. Dean is alive too. 

But he won’t be for long if he can’t start breathing soon.

“Dean, Dean,” Cas is saying, “You’re hyperventilating. You need to take deep breaths--”

“ _Casshh…_ ” Dean feels sounds tumble over his lips. He gasps and his lungs spasm as he tries to draw in oxygen.

“I’m right here, Dean,” Dean feels his shaking palms being brought up to the angel’s bare chest, “Copy my breathing pattern: in...out…in...out...”

Finally, eyes dripping, and blood rushing through his ears, Dean finds Cas’s deep blue eyes and feels the soft rise and fall under his hands. _Cas is here_ , his brain plays on repeat like a broken record stuck on the most glorious song. He feels the ex-angel’s heartbeat. That’s right. Cas is human now. Dean takes a shuddery breath. Another. And another. One breath in...one breath out….just like Castiel. Dean’s lungs burn and his stomach aches, but at least he can feel his own body again. 

“You’re safe. It was just a dream. Just a dream,” Cas is murmuring. 

Dean blinks away the fuzziness when the lamp on the nightstand snaps on. Dean’s room is bathed in a soft brightness not from fire but a lightbulb. Cas is flush and glowy and alive in his light orange boxers. Dean holds onto the meat of the ex-angel’s thighs and tries to stop the world from tilting at the edges. Steady hands are gripping the hunter’s shoulders and he has no doubt he would’ve toppled over a long time ago if Cas wasn’t holding him up.

The ex-angel’s skin is warm under his hands. His mind and body slowly start to re-align. Cas is here, not on fire. Cas is safe. Dean is safe.

Dean stops fighting the disorientation and lets himself slump into Cas eliciting a surprised ‘ _Oof!_ ’ from the angel. He can feel the wetness on his cheeks smear on the sweet olive skin he’s resting on. Solid, safe arms encircle Dean’s shoulders and pull him even closer.

Dean doesn’t realize that Cas has changed their position until he finds himself tucked up against a broad chest, lying in the ex-angel’s arms. The sheets are sweat-soaked and sticky under his skin but his brain is still frantically rolling his thoughts around like marbles and he can’t focus on much for long.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas’s nimbles fingers run through Dean’s sweaty hair, pushing it off his forehead. Dean’s mouth feels too dry, like dust at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. He nods, burying the point of his nose in the crook of the ex-angel’s neck. Lips brush his own bare shoulder and Dean clears his throat against the emotions rushing up into him.

He loses track of time as, eventually, he feels Cas’s heart rate settle down. Dean’s own blood continues to course with adrenaline, muscles twitching and shifting against Cas. His hands clench and unclench where they’re fisted in the sheets and wrapped around the ex-angel’s bicep.

“Cas?”

“I’m here, Dean,” Cas’s words vibrate against Dean’s chest.

Dean rises up to his elbows and kisses Cas hard and deep, wanting to feel every possible inch of Castiel’s aliveness. When he pulls away to breathe bright baby blues are looking at him. The remnants of the dream are fading fast, images blurry and out of focus now but a flash of milky dead eyes crosses his mind and he shivers. He kisses the ex-angel again until all his senses can focus on is the warm, soft push of Cas’s body under his.

The ex-angel’s hand lightly pushes at Dean’s chest, fingers running over his collarbone, until Dean pulls back again.

“Are you sure you are alright?” 

He nods, but can’t meet Cas’s eyes.

“Dean,” the hunter slumps back down against the ex-angel’s side, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean feels terror spike up at the idea of voicing the nightmare. Something feels so poisonous about making Cas hear the awful shit his mind can cook up. But Dean’s brain bristles at keeping it all locked in. He’s been working hard to try to let Cas in a little more, to trust the ex-angel just as much with his internal crap and he trusts him with his body. Ultimately...he can’t resist the need to hear Cas assure him of just how stupid and not real his dream was.

“You, uh,” Dean tries to cover the crack in his voice with a cough, “you were dead...and burning...on the ceiling…”

Any other night Dean might’ve laughed when he felt the ex-angel’s head tilt in confusion.

“But I don’t underst--” Then Cas’s body goes rigid and the hunter squeezes a little tighter, “your mother...Oh, _Dean_...”

Encapsulating arms curl around Dean and the hunter finds himself tightly wound up in Cas's embrace. He bites his lips and tries to swallow down the swelling in his throat. Stubbly smooches work their way from the hunter’s shoulder to the curve of his neck. He feels tight with a tension that still hasn’t dissolved from his body. Dean begins peppering his own kisses along the ex-angel’s neck, shifting enough in Cas’s arms to snake a hand up to soft, dark hair.

He almost feels a little dizzy with the need to get as close to Cas as possible. When he skims his other hand over Cas’s clothed stomach he sees a flash of the oozing wound something had torn into Dream Castiel’s stomach. He slips his hand under Cas’s shirt until he feels his sleep-warm, unharmed tummy under his fingers. Dean breathes a little lighter, stroking the soft skin.

Cas’s legs wrap around Dean’s hips so there is hardly any part of them that’s not touching.

“Mmm, Caasss…”

The ex-angel hums against the bolt of Dean’s jaw in reply as he nibbles at his earlobe. Dean’s body is starting to wake up fully now and his breathing starts to get gaspy for a whole other reason. Cas is matching Dean’s roaming hands and exploring tongue with equal force. Their hips start rocking together.

Dean buries his head in Cas’s neck when he feels tears burning his eyes. They rut together, all of the adrenaline-laced energy thrumming through Dean’s body finally having a direction to go. Castiel is murmuring little assurances but mostly just kissing the side of Dean’s head, matching Dean’s motions, and holding the hunter tightly.

“Baby, _unnhh_ , baby, please,” Dean whines into the pillow beside the ex-angel’s head.

“What do you need, Dean?” Cas asks, fingers sliding down from Dean’s ribs to tease at the waistband of his boxers.

Dean needs to be even closer to Castiel. Needs it like he needs air--and probably a Xanax. He murmurs, “Cas...need to feel you...please…?”

Cas nods and hushes him. 

“Do not worry, Dean. I’ve got you.”

Cas grabs their well-loved plastic jar out from the bedside drawer and sets it by their waists. He taps the hunter’s rolling hips out of the way to snake his own hand between them. Beneath Dean, Cas shudders as his freshly-lubed fingers circle his rim. Dean’s skin buzzes as he watches those digits prod at the still-loose skin. Cas’s eyes flutter and he licks his lips.

Dean noses at Cas’s trembling cheek. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Cas,” he mumbles.

“Ah, _Dean_ …” Cas sighs, breath hitching and Dean glances down just in time to see the shorter man work in a third finger.

Cas’s cock starts to fill out where it rests against Dean’s hip. He gives the ex-angel a few teasing strokes, kissing along Cas’s slackened jaw as he bucks up into Dean’s hand and down onto his own fingers.

“’Kay,” the ex-angel groans. The tip of his pink tongue darts out across his lips again, “‘M ready.”

Cas’s other hand slips into the hunter’s boxers and wraps around his aching cock. Dean moans low next to Cas’s ear as he strokes Dean to full hardness with his lubed-up hand. Cas tilts his hips upward and postions the hunter at his entrance. He guides Dean’s swollen tip in slowly. The hunter holds his hips still as Cas spasms around him, the ex-angel letting out a punched breath. Cas twists, his face scrunching and relaxing as he adjusts. Dean pushes a sweaty dark lock off the ex-angel’s forehead.

“You doing okay, sunshine?”

“Mhm,” Cas nods, eyes still closed. His cheek twitches in slight grimace, “We need more lubricant, though.”

“I gotcha, buddy,” Dean gently eased the tip out, and scoops out another liberal dollop. He works it into Cas’s tight hole until he feels the ex-angel relax around his fingers, “How’s that? Better?”

Cas hums and Dean was drawn into those ocean blue eyes like a tractor beam. 

“Much better, yes. You can move now.”

Dean gives a few more lazy thrusts with his fingers just to hear the little ‘uh, uh, uh’ noises the ex-angel makes. The hunter shifts back in place, lining his cock up with Cas’s sweet hole again. Dean inches the tip back in, gasping as Cas’s rim flares around his head before sucking him all the way in. The hunter starts gliding in slowly, kissing at the long, olive column of Cas’s neck. Dean pauses once he’s halfway in until Cas nods and he slides deeper into the searing heat. He moves his nibbling attention up to the ex-angel’s jaw as he pushes the last bit of length in. Dean comes to another halt when Cas’s ass is hugged in the cradle of his thighs. 

“Feel so good, Cas,” Dean sighs, and, _shit_ , he really does. The hunter begins a slow slide out...then a slow slide back in. Small, easy thrusts into Cas’s tender hole have the ex-angel moaning around shaky breaths. “God, Cas. Perfect... _unnhh_ , fuck, you’re goddamn perfection…”

Cas’s chuckle is broken on a gasp.

“You feel in-incredible, too, Dean.” 

“W-Why do we ever get out of bed?” Dean huffs into Cas’s shoulder. He can feel the ex-angel smirking against his temple, “Seriously...think we’ve earned it...no more scary, dangerous crap tryin’ kill us…”

Lips press into his hairline as his hips set a lazy rhythm. Every inch of skin touching Cas feels lit up like lights on a Christmas tree. Cas’s heart thumps steadily against his own. _Alive. Alive. Alive._ Why can’t they just stay like this forever? Why do they even go out into a dismal world that only wants to see them suffer when they could just stay wrapped up in this heavenly bubble until they die in their sleep at eighty like normal people get to?

“Perhaps, but this is just what we do. This is how we make the world a better place. How we save it,” Cas’s fingers thread through his sweaty hair, his other arm secure around the hunter’s shoulders.

“Not worth saving if it means I lose you,” Dean murmurs. It’s not the words Dean meant to say but there isn’t any lie in them. Maybe it’s just too early in the morning (or late at night?) for his mouth to have much of a filter. Dean swallows around a stone.

Cas presses Dean’s hips to a stop, sheathing the hunter inside him. He noses at Dean’s cheek until Dean's eyes find his. There’s just a little too much behind the ex-angel’s intense gaze so the hunter looks at his dark stubble instead.

“Dean...” Cas’s brow furrows in seriousness, “I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

“You don’t _plan_ on going anywhere, maybe. But people don’t really plan on dying either, they just...do one day.”

“Mortality is a fact of existence for all beings, Dean,” Warm fingers rub the small of Dean’s back and the hunter shuts his eyes. He wants to stop talking about this--doesn’t want to keep picturing (and, in some cases, reliving) Cas’s death. He can feel himself starting to wilt inside the angel and that is the last thing he wants. He needs to be closer to Cas, not slip away from him, “But-- _But_ , that is what makes the _decades_ we will still have together all the more miraculous--”

“Just...just promise me that we’re done with the self-sacrificing bullshit?” He swallows roughly, “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself a-and, y’know, come back home after whatever stupid, suicide mission we go on next. I just...I want-- _need_ you to promise me that, okay? Please? ‘Cause I can’t take--I’ve seen you broken and bloody too many times...”

Cas meets his quivering lips and kisses him hard. His quick tongue pushes past the hunter’s lips and caresses the inside of his cheeks. Dean exhales through his nose as all his senses are filled with Cas once again, his fears starting to ebb away. Cas wriggles his hips and nudges the hunter until he resumes his pumping hips.

“I promise, Dean,” he pulls Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, sending a lightning bolt straight to his cock, “You will have to tolerate me for a long, _long_ time still.”

Dean rests his forehead against the ex-angel’s. He wants to feel every part of Cas, feel the shorter man right there with him. His hand slides between them, gripping Cas’s own pulsing length and strokes him at the same pace as his thrusts.

“Long time, Cas...Be with you for a long time.”

“ _Ohhh_ , Dean…” Cas whimpers as Dean twists his wrist on the upstroke. The ex-angel’s thighs jerks tighter around Dean’s waist.

“Want you to always come home to me, Cas...Gonna give you every reason to come home to me--”

Sure fingers wind into Dean’s hair, cutting him off and pulling him down into a bruising kiss. The hunter can feel Cas’s thundering heartbeat where his hand smoothes over the hollow of the angel’s throat. Not dead. His angel is _alive_.

“I-I’m near...near orgasm-- _uhhh, Dean!_ ” 

The hunter’s hand strips Cas’s flushed cock, shifting and angling to pound into the ex-angel’s prostate. Cas’s jaw goes slack, eyes squeezing shut, and brow furrowing as he claws at Dean’s back. His blunt nails dig in even deeper as Dean’s thrusts speed up. 

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck, I love you,” Dean grips the ex-angel’s velvety hardness even tighter as Cas begins to spasm and twitch around him, “Come for me, baby...just for me--”

“ _Auhhhh! De-eeean!_ ”

Dean feels Cas’s cock pulse in his hand and stroke him over the edge. He peppers Cas’s sweaty cheeks with kisses as the shorter man’s mouth gapes around silent screams. Dean nibbles behind his ear and groans through the pulsating squeeze of Cas’s tight channel around him. When the ex-angel begins to whimper and wriggle from Dean’s overstimulating hand, the hunter lets him go and forces his hips to stutter to a stop. He devours every gasp that falls from Cas’s soft, pink mouth.

“Every time…” Cas smacks his lips together around another shaky breath, smiling against Dean’s cheek, “Never ceases to amaze me. _You_ never cease to amaze me.”

“Now don’t go giving me a big head, man,” Dean chuckles, nosing at the ex-angel’s jaw to keep Cas from seeing his reddening cheeks.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the ex-angel teases. His eyes are half-lidded and hazy as he lets his head fall back on the pillow to smile up at Dean. A warm hand slides against Dean’s stubble and the hunter keena into it, “I believe it is your turn now.”

Dean’s groana, chin sagging down to his chest when Cas clenches around him. He kisses the small smirk pulling at Cas’s lips and begins to slowly work himself back into a rhythm. Dean shivers as the ex-angel strokew his back, the urgency now gone from his own movements. 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas hums, placing a gentle kiss on the ridge of Dean’s cheekbone. The hunter feels his cheeks flame again and buries his face in the angel’s neck.

“Love you, too,” Dean mumbles.

More kisses rain down wherever Cas seems able to reach as he speaks.

“My righteous man…” Kiss. Kiss. “You deserve love and protection, Dean,” Kiss. Kiss. “It is not only my purpose but my privilege to stand by your side.”

Dean’s eyes sting and he squeezes them to try and ward off the swelling in his throat. This is ridiculous, it isn’t like any of this was new information. But...well, Dean just never realized how badly he actually needs to hear the words.

Cas nibbles at the shell of the hunter’s ear and sends ripples down Dean’s spine, “I’ll always watch over you, Dean. I’ll give you all of the love and support of which I am capable for as long as you’ll have me.”

“ _Unnnhhh...Caaasss…_ ” Dean growls, thrusts turning desperately erratic.

“Are you going to climax for me?” the ex-angel whispers.

“ _Mhhm_ ,” Dean nods frantically against the other’s shoulder, “S’ close, Cas…”

“Take what you need, my friend.”

Dean wants to cry at the words--but he also wants to come and it feels like all the wires in his brain are criss-crossed. In the end, he can’t hold either impulse at bay. 

With a choked sob, Dean’s hips stutter and jerk into Cas. He spills hot and thick deep inside the ex-angel, holding Cas’s body tight enough that not an inch remains between them. His lips vibrate around a low moan against Cas’s skin as color and light and sound fizzle like sparklers behind his eyes. Dean can feel Cas murmuring in Enochian against his hair, a calloused thumb brushing the new wetness off his cheeks. The hunter wants to protest, roll to the side and wipe the shameful wet trails off his face, but his bones feel floppy like Jell-o.

All the tension in his body flows out. Panic no longer spikes his perceptions and the itch of fight-or-flight under his skin has evaporated. Even in his post-orgamsic haze, Dean feels more clear and sure than ever. Cas is alive. Cas is here. _Cas loves me._

The impractical, disgustingly sentimental side of Dean wants to stay all sheathed and protected in Cas like this forever--but he doesn’t want Cas to be sore in the morning so he slips out, immediately missing the warmth. He kisses Cas, whose blinks are getting droopier, with a sated smile and reaches for a Kleenex from the same drawer the lube was in. He tucks both items away again and pulls their boxers back up--they’ll definitely have to do some laundry in the morning.

Dean pushes away the sweaty sheet and gathers Cas up in his arms, tangling their limbs as much as humanly possible. Cas snuffles where his head is tucked against Dean’s neck. The ex-angel is already starting to tip over into unconsciousness. Dean presses his lips against Cas’s head and allows his eyes to fall shut. He drifts asleep to the thrum of Cas’s very alive heartbeat against his own.

**- _Fin_ -**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I'd love to hear from you in the comments <3


End file.
